


Quiet Moments

by KLStarre



Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Family, Found Family, Frostwind - Freeform, Galaderon, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Shorts, The Crick, this is so incredibly repressed (part 4)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/pseuds/KLStarre
Summary: A collection of NADDPOD drabbles written for Tumblr prompts.





	1. Feels Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> From riz-gukgak.tumblr.com: "capernoited ['Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.'] with any naddpod ship"

Hardwon Surefoot had had...well, you could call it a long week. He wouldn’t admit it, obviously, but having his life saved multiple times by a kid who only came up to his mid-thigh, and reading a bedtime story to some other kids who didn’t seem to hate him was a lot to handle. And, of course. Well. 

He’d been an orphan his whole life, was the thing. He was curious about who his parents were, like anyone was, but he’d never really believed he’d meet anyone who had known them. He’d certainly never expected to find out that they had died as heroes, that they hadn’t just abandoned him, that he was a fucking _Stormborn_. 

So, yeah. You could call it a long week.

Hardwon stood, looking over the edge of the SS Stormborn, for a long time. And then he went to find Moonshine. Ideally, this would be a One Big Bed kind of night, but Bev was dealing with his own problems and, anyway, he wasn’t about to tell a _kid _that he was having emotions, no matter how much he was slowly (rapidly) growing to love him. 

Moonshine was curled up in the bow of the ship, just...on the ground, Paw Paw nuzzled into her overalls, and for a second Hardwon thought she was asleep and turned to go. But she must have been trancing, because as he went to turn, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Hey, Hardwon. How’s it going?”

“Been better,” he said, his voice feeling separate from his body, suddenly unsure. They had only known each other for a little bit over a week. Why the hell would he trust her to care about him?

“C’mere.” Moonshine sat up, incredibly gracefully for a woman entirely covered in fungus, and Paw Paw slid further down the front of her overalls as she patted the space next to her. 

Without even thinking about it, Hardwon’s body moved for him, and he crouched down beside her, wooden beams creaking beneath him. She pulled one of her seemingly infinite vials of Crick water out from one of her seemingly infinite pockets, took a deep huff, and passed it to him. He still thought it was kind of weird, the way she insisted that you couldn’t drink it, but he followed her lead, and the burning in his lungs felt a little bit like a home. 

She rested her head against his shoulder, and he froze, unsure how to respond, until she said, “Where I’m from, nobody knows who their daddy is. Makes it easier.” 

Hardwon took another deep huff of the Crick water, and could feel it beginning to cloud his judgment. “Nobody knows shit at the Dwarphanage, either. But everybody wants to, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Moonshine says, quietly, quietly. “I know.”

He’d never say it to her face, but maybe it’s not the Crick water that feels like home. Maybe it’s just Moonshine.


	2. Steady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Anonymous: "Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder."
> 
> Spoilers for episode 69.

They had had warning. Luckily, thank Moradin, they had had warning. But all that meant was that Jaina Bronzebeard was responsible for keeping line upon line of dwarves alert and prepared for the wave of monsters that none of them could quite believe were coming. Having Ulfgar beside her was helping, definitely, but no one liked to take orders from someone who wasn’t one of their own. And no matter what she was, she wasn’t a Frostwind dwarf.

Storm clouds were gathering. Storm clouds were always gathering, here. Sometimes she missed Irondeep, where you never went outside but, if you did, it always felt like a blessing. Here, it just felt oppressive. Like you were just waiting for the world to end.

Lightning flashed, far on the horizon, and then, half a minute later, thunder growled. Jaina clutched the haft of her warhammer tighter as her cloak blew back in the wind, and turned to face her army. She stood on the wall separating Frostwind from the world of the giants, and the entire population of Frostwind was arrayed below her. It was going to be a long, long night, and then another long, long day.

Something flickered in the distance, and for a moment she thought it was lightning again, but it was in the wrong direction and, besides, there was no thunder.

“Steady,” she said, to herself, and then bellowed to everyone below her. “Steady!” Ulfgar was further down the wall, and she saw him turn and acknowledge her before pulling out his axe, given to him by Hardwon, and brandishing it towards the sky.

The first raindrop hit. And the portal opened.


	3. Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Anonymous: "Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move."

The night is quiet, except for the echoes of crickets and the wind through the trees, and two thirteen year-old halfling boys lie in a tent, in sleeping bags just far enough apart that no one could claim they were trying to be close to each other. Derlin had been supposed to be sharing with them, too, but it’s the first big camping trip without a chaperone staying with them, and he had gotten scared last minute and stayed home. Secretly, Beverly and Erlin are both excited about this, although they couldn’t explain why. 

Erlin lies on his side, facing Bev, glasses slightly askew. Neither of them has thought to bring any light, and so it’s only the slight glow of the moon through the thin walls of the tent that illuminates them, outlining Beverly against the darkness. They lock eyes for a second, and Erlin’s breath catches before he lets his glance flicker away. “Are you scared?” he whispers, wanting to hear Bev’s voice but not wanting to break the silence.

There is a pause, and, once again, they make eye contact. Erlin tries not to blink, this time. He can’t make out color in the darkness, but he knows Bev’s face well enough to know that his eyes are a deep, warm brown, and to know the faded scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The one curl, the one that Bev can never get to stay in place, is probably hanging right in front of his right eye.

“A little bit,” Bev responds, eventually, voice even quieter than Erlin’s. He sounds almost surprised by the revelation. “Are you?”

“I don’t think so.” Erlin has to force himself back into conversation. He can feel Bev’s gaze on him, a steady stare. Sometimes, he considers saying something, but - what would he even say? Most of the time, except for every once in a while, late at night (like right now, he realizes), he doesn’t even know what it is he wants to say to his best friend.

“You’re so brave,” Beverly says, without a trace of sarcasm.

Erlin grins, and they’re just friends again, just friends whispering in the dark.


	4. Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Anonymous: "For the fic prompt: what is Erlin up to right after Hillholm? Flying away, sad, but hey, it's the end of the world."

Erlin is a good cleric. And he knows, deep in his bones, that someday he’ll be a great one. Sometimes he thinks about how he could have been learning to be a cleric all those years in the Green Teens, but war after war had forced him into armor when he was too young to know better. It should make him angry, but he’s never been great at anger. Instead it just makes him sad. His parents had never gotten to see him do what he’s good at.

Egwene has, at least. And she knows how he gets, sometimes; stuck in his own head, especially in the mornings, putting on his armor piece by piece, the whole day ahead of him. So, even though they don’t share a room, here in Irondeep, she pokes her head in and says, “They need you, dude,” and then, when he doesn’t respond, staring fixedly at his left greave, hands briefly frozen, walks over to him.

“You good?” she asks, sitting cross-legged in front of him and reaching gently to help him with the straps. His hands jerk away from her and then settle when his brain catches up to his eyes and he processes that it’s just Egwene, just his sister.

“Yeah,” he responds, and reaches for his right greave, clicking the buckles into place as Egwene does the same with the other leg.

“You sure?”

“It’s whatever. I miss mom and dad. They’d know what to do.”

“_We _know what to do,” she responds without hesitating, and hands him his helmet. He holds it and looks into it for a second, surprised a little bit, as always, by the length of his hair. Then he nods.

“Yeah.” Because it’s true. Egwene’s always known what to do, and Erlin has finally started to learn.

“Come on, dweeb.” Egwene stands up and pulls him to his feet, and Erlin feels more stable. They walk together to where the dwarven forces are gathering, waiting for the next sighting of Chosen, and Egwene joins the other archers while Erlin walks off to the clerics.

Around him, the dwarves are all praying, mouthing words to themselves or simply tilting their heads to the sky, eyes shut. Erlin joins them, but instead of asking for anything, he sends up a simple _“Thank you” _to Pelor. These are good people. And, if he has anything to do with it, they’ll live to become great ones.


	5. Spores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Anonymous: "idea: moonshine grows out some of marabelle’s spores and gives them to jolene and it makes me cry"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers through episode 81!

“Somethin’s different about you, Moonshine,” Mee Maw says as they pull away from their embrace. The war is over, Moonshine is seeing Mee Maw for the first time since the Astral Keep, and the Crick is safe again, finally, finally. It’s almost impossible to believe.

There are a lot of things different about Moonshine – she’s more powerful, more scarred, more tired. More ready to lead when, eventually, she must. But Mee Maw’s not talking about any of those things, and Moonshine knows it. She looks around her, at the towering, living trees, at the mushrooms that poke out everywhere, in spite of everything. Behind Mee Maw, at the youngin’s who will now get to keep being youngin’s, lighting small fires and chasing each other with sticks with reckless abandon. Beverly’s influence. The three of them, she knows, have left everywhere they’ve been better than they’d found it, but it is still hard to tell Mee Maw what she’s done, what she wants to do.

Moonshine knows about anger. Knows about bitterness, in a way she’d never thought she would, when she beheaded her first barbarian in Moonstone. So, she’ll understand if Mee Maw has a harder time forgiving than she did. She’ll understand if she has to leave.

“Moonshine?” The twang in Mee Maw’s voice feels like home. Moonshine is just now realizing how desperately she has missed her people.

“I have Marabelle,” she says, because it has to be said.

Mee Maw’s lips tighten, but in a sad way, Moonshine thinks, not an angry way. “What do you mean, youngin’?”

No one’s called Moonshine a youngin’ in years, but she is one still, really. She’s so young for an elf. She forgets that sometimes.

It’s impossible to explain in words, so Moonshine becomes her Symbiotic Entity. The tentacles still don’t feel quite natural, although the necrosis and the acid came easy. Marabelle’s always been a part of her, she’s coming to realize.

“Oh,” Mee Maw says, but she doesn’t look sad anymore. She’s…smiling, a soft smile that reminds Moonshine of when she was even more of a youngin’ than she is now, and Mee Maw would tell dozens of them stories around the campfire late into the night. “You sure do,” she says, eventually.

“I’ve adopted some of her spores into my network,” Moonshine says. It’s easier to vocalize, knowing that maybe her mom thinks she’s done the right thing. “But I can – I think they’d love to be here. And I don’t need her anymore.” The necrosis and the acid came easy, but Moonshine feels like she’s at war still whenever she thinks about them. Better that they can serve her home, protect the Crick.

“You’re sure they’re her, and not him?” Mee Maw is afraid to be hopeful. She’s masking it well. Moonshine would never have noticed before the war.

“Yes.” She’s never been surer of anything.

“Then it would be an honor to have my sister return to the Crick.”

Moonshine breathes out, and the spores that had always been looking for a home melt away from her, tentacles dissolving into mushrooms that pepper the ground around them and further out, too, into the trees and the water and the ground and the bones. She knows, without having to check, that her own spores are once again only a natural poison.

Moonshine reaches for her Mee Maw, unsteady and desperate, and Mee Maw holds her. And all around them is Marabelle, returned home.


	6. Trance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Anonymous: "fic prompt: some cute alanis/moonshine ?? maybe one of them realizing they like the other ??? :o"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers through episode 84!

They’ve been through Hell. They’ve been through hell and it hadn’t been enough, but they’ve been back on the material plane for twelve hours and been huddled up together inside Melora’s Marvelous Stump for a little over five. It’s pitch black outside, and Moonshine is exhausted, as she has every right to be. Still, though, she trances. Doesn’t sleep. It feels wrong to sleep when she doesn’t actually need it.

Beside her, on her left side, is Beverly, with Hardwon on the other side of him. Balnor is snoring in the chair. And, Moonshine remembers, as she finishes trancing and turns quietly to slip out of the bed, Alanis is on her right. Alanis had been hesitant to join them, when Moonshine had offered, but she was lonely. Moonshine could tell, not that it was hard. Loneliness wafts off of Alanis like the fumes waft off of the Crick.

Moonshine is awake now, staring up into the shades of grey that the darkness makes all she can see. She wants to – do _something_, keep watch, cook a Heroes’ Feast, play with Paw Paw. But Paw Paw is curled up against her, breathing evenly, and she doesn’t want to wake Alanis. Alanis deserves to rest.

It’s about half an hour later that Alanis’s breathing changes and her eyes flicker open. Oh, _right._ She’s an elf, too. And Moonshine imagines it gets hard to sleep for real, after what she’s been through.

“Hey,” Alanis whispers, when she notices Moonshine watching her. Her hair is a mess, curls cascading over her face and frizzy enough to cover her ears entirely.

“Forgot you didn’t sleep, either,” Moonshine whispers back, more quietly than she needs to, probably. Bev and Hardwon and Balnor can sleep through anything.

“I do sometimes. Been a while.” Alanis slides herself out of the bed, barely even shaking it. Her party had been a human and a dwarf, not too much different from Hardwon and Bev. She’s also accustomed to every night’s four hours of being alone. Alanis pulls something from one of her many pockets before slipping out of the tent-flap, and Moonshine assumes it’s her pipe, something to smoke. Probably, she wants to be alone. But Moonshine has learned, over the past few months, that usually people who want to be alone need company.

And she’s got too much pent-up need to _do _things to keep lying here, anyway.

Moonshine gives Alanis a few seconds and then follows her outside, making maybe a little bit more noise than she had. She’s not a quiet person, is Moonshine.

Alanis is sitting a little way away from the stump, hunched over, wisps of smoke blowing away into the nearly starless night. Moonshine hesitates again, and then walks toward her anyway. It’s not fair that Alanis has no one, while she and Hardwon and Bev and Balnor have, at the very least, each other.

“Mind if I join you?” she asks, the question coming out loud against the dark.

Alanis looks up at her, and there’s a look of confusion on her face for a split second before she gets it under control. “Go for it.”

Moonshine does, sitting cross-legged in the damp grass. Not too close to Alanis, but not too far, either.

“Want some?”

Moonshine looks at Alanis’s pipe and shakes her head. “Nah. Thanks, though.”

“’Course.”

They sit in silence for a while, the only sounds the soft in-and-out of Alanis smoking and the occasional crackle of the fire that’s remained lit in the bowl of her pipe.

A singular owl calls.

“What are you going to do, after we win?” Moonshine is not this confident. But someone needs to pretend to be, and it might as well be her.

“I don’t know. Go back to the Fey Wild, maybe. Don’t really have anywhere else.”

“Gladeholm?”

“It’s not my Gladeholm. Besides, can’t think about it without remembering destroying it.” Alanis breathes in deeply, releases a series of perfect smoke rings into the air.

“Come to the Crick, then. It’s a home for everyone.” It’s not a home for Moonshine, not entirely. But it will be. With Bev and Hardwon with her, and Marabelle’s spores a part of her, and knowing who she is more completely than ever before, it will be.

“You’ve said that before.” Alanis’s voice is getting more distant, and Moonshine has to lean in a bit to hear her. She smells like weed, mostly, but also a little bit still like baby’s breath and lavender. It’s weird, she doesn’t come off as the type to wear perfume.

“And I meant it. You don’t have to exile yourself. The Crick is there for anyone who needs it.”

Alanis turns to look at her for the first time. “And what if it’s not there? After we win?”

“It will be. And if it isn’t, its people will. We’ve survived longer and worse than this. You’ll fit right in.”

Alanis maintains eye contact, focused and unblinking, and then looks away again. “Never fit in anywhere except with Thiala and Ulfgar.”

Moonshine reaches for Alanis’s free hand, filled suddenly with an overwhelming urge to offer physical comfort. She’s surprised at how quickly Alanis reciprocates, clutching for a lifeline.

“And with us,” Moonshine says, “And with the Crick.”


End file.
